


For No One

by Spectre_sound



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Heavy Angst, I want to tag stuff but I dont want to spoil things, M/M, more warnings in the end notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectre_sound/pseuds/Spectre_sound
Summary: My take on the 1966 concert in Memphis





	For No One

It was the performance the band had been dreading for weeks now. August 19th, 1966. Memphis, Tennessee. The ‘bigger than Jesus’ quote had taken on a life of its own in America, particularly in the bible belt, which they were currently now smack dab in the middle of. Their first show had gone off without a hitch but the band was still worried. They were just about to go onstage in front of the screaming crowds they could barely hear themselves over, in front of an audience that possibly hated them all. They had the right to be scared.

George was playing with the strap on his guitar, just for something to do with his fingers. He could see the nerves in his bandmates’ eyes. In the way Paul, John, and he had moved a little more erratically to give anyone who wanted to shoot them a harder target to hit. Ringo’s cymbals were almost vertical in a little shield to help protect himself from harm.

They walked onto the stage with smiles and waves and even a blown kiss from Paul. Aforementioned Beatle introduced the band and lied through his teeth about how excited they were to be in Memphis. Without too much hassle the boys started with their opening number Rock and Roll music.

They’d made to their third song (If I Needed Someone) when, all of a sudden, there was a loud bang followed by many fearful screams and George’s heart stopped.

This was exactly what they had feared.

His first instinct was to look to John, ascertaining the guitarist (who was now playing double time which George easily kept up with) was uninjured, his eyes flitted over to Paul who as well as keeping up with John and making sure his bandmates were okay, looked relatively uninjured, but there was something missing. A certain, cymbal-heavy, steady beat which had been guiding them for years.

Some part of George dreaded what he’d find when he looked to the drummer but he knew he had to look. Once he had seen him, George immediately wanted to throw up but he felt frozen, like he couldn't move no matter how much his mind was screaming at him that he should.

Ringo was slumped over his drums a fine misting of blood over the wall they’d been playing in front of. He couldn't tell if Ringo was conscious due to the roar of the crowd and the rush of blood in his ears.

Out of nowhere, George heard the most anguished nose he'd ever experienced. It was a scream of the pain of watching your bandmate, one of your closest friends, your lover get shot. It was a scream of pain and such guilt and George watched John run to Ringo, pulling the man off his kit and laying him gently on the floor and pressing his hands firmly over the source of the blood as best he could.

He heard retching noises to his left and glanced over to see Paul emptying his guts out onto the stage.

-o-0-o-

“RITCHIE!” John cried out, running over to his secret boyfriend and dragging him off his drums, doing his best not to injure the man any more than he was obviously already hurt. Once on the ground, he pressed his hands to Ringo’s wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Ringo couldn't die on him. Not now, not ever.

“Fuck Rings, you gotta stay with me you can't leave me alone, I’m so sorry I let this happen to you” every tear rolling down John’s face felt as sticky as the blood running through his fingers, no matter how hard he pressed.

“Someone call 999!” he yelled. No doubt someone had already done so but he felt so useless. His Ringo, his Ritchie, had just gotten shot because of something he said and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to fix it.

Ringo’s eyes were open and were lazily focused on John, a small smile pulling at bloodstained lips. “...John...” he said breathily, followed by a groan of pain.

“You don't have to say anything, love, I’m right here and there's an ambulance on its way and you're going to be just fine. You're not allowed to die on me Richie, you hear? We’re going to grow old together and have a hundred cats and writing music till we die, remember what you said? You have to do it or you'd be a liar and you're not a liar Richie” John choked out between sobs.

Ringo hissed as he inhaled. Even that must be painful John realized, prompting him to brush the drummer's hair out of his face with a bloody hand.

“I love you, John,” Ringo mumbled and John was barely able to hear the words over the roar of the crowd.

“That sounds like a goodbye Rings, you aren't allowed to leave me! If not for me, what about George? He’s only 23, he’s barely even an adult, you can't leave him! It would break him! And Paul? He’s so sweet and as much as he acts all tough you know he’s a sweetheart! Please don't leave us” the last sentence was reduced to a whisper and he saw a soft.

All of a sudden the pair had George and Paul next to them, Paul kneeled by his head and George wringing his hands and standing above them.

“Eppy’s trying to get the ambulance round the back but there are people everywhere. They're trying to keep people inside the stadium so there’s room for the ambulance” George informed them and John could hear the fear in his voice even over the roar of the crowd.

Paul was brushing Ringo’s hair back with his fingers, tears falling silently down his face. His lips were moving but he was speaking quietly enough that none of the men could hear what was coming out of them.

What a sight the four of them made. The oldest of them, weak on the floor and barely conscious, his lover sobbing over his body. The bassist looking smaller than John had ever seen him and the youngest among them the only one still standing strong.

“Paul” John heard Ringo faintly ask for the bassist and saw the younger man lean down to their drummer. John couldn't hear what Ringo was saying but he could tell Ringo was talking by the way Paul was nodding and how the tears had started flowing faster down his face.

“You’re not going to die Rings, you can't” Paul whispered and John's heart clenched tight. Ringo couldn’t die. He was the best of them, their Ringo, his Ringo, and the band, John, couldn't go on without him.

After a second Paul sat up, wiping at his eyes frantically and Ringo called for George and this time added a little hand waving that obviously pained him to get the guitarist’s attention. After a second Paul weakly hit George’s leg and he looked down to notice Ringo. He knelt and a similar sequence took place, the first tears falling from George’s eyes. After he was gone. George remained on the floor, grabbing one of Ringo’s hands in both his own.

Ringo then turned to him, but their scene was interrupted by three paramedics rushing up to them and breaking their circle.

As the paramedics rushed Ringo away on a stretcher, John couldn't help but wonder

_Had Ringo’s final words just been stolen away from him?_

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning(s):  
> A character gets shot


End file.
